


Congratulations, Ducky! It's a boy!

by Bellaromanza



Category: NCIS
Genre: AU, M/M, What if?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-10
Updated: 2012-09-10
Packaged: 2017-11-13 23:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/508976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellaromanza/pseuds/Bellaromanza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheer coincidence follows Ducky when he discovers something about his own past that intertwines with Tony's. </p><p>Yes, there is a bit of a shout out to U.N.C.L.E.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Congratulations, Ducky! It's a boy!

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic years before and posted it on Squidge. So don't be surprised if you might recognize it. 
> 
> I updated it with the more recent facts from the show, and removed a lot of commas for here.

The Past~

Donald Mallard, late an agent with the M's, was surveying the ballroom with a jaundiced eye. The party, thrown by one of his friends was filled by the upper crust of London society and their hanger-ons, most of whom he thought were a waste of the air that they breathed. 

After an hour or so, he decided he’d done his duty and was about to hunt down the host and say his good-byes when he caught sight of a woman who made him look twice. She was in her early twenties, wearing a forest green couture gown, her dark hair swept up into a sophisticated chignon. She had beautiful hazel eyes that spoke expressively of her own jaded opinion of the party. 

Sophia DiNozzo was very unhappy with her husband. He was acting like an ass, his masculinity impugned merely because the specialist they’d consulted had said his sperm didn’t have motility. She had been devastated of course, she wanted a child, but her husband refused to consider adoption, and they had fought before the party. Again.

At the moment, he was flirting with some Italian countess, his dark head bent forward as he tried to charm her knickers off. Shooting him a dirty look across the ballroom, Sophia tipped back her glass of champagne, swallowing it in one gulp. 

“Oh, my dear. That is a dreadful way to drink this lovely champagne,” a cultured voice scolded. 

Turning a little too fast, Sophia swayed dizzily for a moment until a pair of warm hands cupped her elbows. “Be careful,” he said softly, tone admiring. 

“Thank you,” she said with a laugh, and then was caught by a pair of striking blue eyes. The man’s blonde hair glinted in the chandelier light, and Sophia thought he looked like an angel from some old Master’s painting. “You’ve saved my life. You are my hero, kind sir,” she flirted. 

The man smiled back. “Then as your hero I must make sure that you are taken care of. My name is Donald Solo.” He knew his old friend wouldn't begrudge him the lie. 

“Sophia,” she said, and then decided to throw caution to the wind. “Sophia Paddington. I’m in London for a short vacation,” she lied unapologetically. Well, it had been a vacation until the specialist had given them the bad news.

“Indeed,” Donald said with a slow smile. “Have you been here before?”

She shook her head. ~Sophia Paddington~ had never been to London . “I’m taking a break after Cambridge before I start a new career.” 

“Then let me take you out to see the sights,” Donald said gallantly. 

As if she were thinking, Sophia let her gaze wander the crowded ballroom, and when she didn’t see her husband, made her decision. “I would love to.” 

*

Almost 9 months to the day, Sophia held her newborn son, her hazel eyes stinging with happy tears. She had her long awaited child and couldn’t be more ecstatic.

Her mother smiled at her daughter and grandson even while she seethed about the fact that her son in law wasn’t even in the country. “Have you and Anthony decided on a name, yet?”

Sophia looked at her mother. “I’m calling him Anthony Donal DiNozzo.” His name was a careful combination of his own heritage and his father’s name. 

Blinking back tears, Mary Paddington reached out and clasped her daughter’s hand. “Oh, pet. He’s the bonniest babe that I’ve ever seen.” 

Even though his middle name was different, Tony was always called Junior by the family.

 

~*

“You are going to what?” Anthony DiNozzo Sr. looked at the younger man in disbelief. 

“I’m going to apply to the Police Academy,” Tony told his father resolutely. “I don’t want to sit in an office, Dad. I want to do something that will make a difference.” 

“Then come work for me, and when the time is right head into politics,” Anthony said, trying to be reasonable, his anger flaring when Tony shook his head.

“Dad, seriously. I don’t want to go into politics and I hate finance.”

“I knew this would happen!” Anthony shouted and got to his feet, his shorter stature making him have to look up at Tony. “You’re gonna end up in a gutter someday. It’s a good thing that you aren’t my son because by God-”

“Anthony!” Sophia’s sharp voice from the door brought both men up short. 

“What?” Tony asked in confusion. “What do you mean I’m not your son?”

“He is your father in every way that counts,” Sophia said with ferocious glare at her husband. “Just not biologically.” 

The fight about Tony’s origins had taken place after a horse riding accident when he was ten. He’d had an open compound fracture and had lost a considerable amount of blood before he was stabilized, and Anthony had discovered that he couldn’t donate blood to help his son because their blood types were incompatible. 

Tony’s face was white. “What?”

Anthony shot his wife a long look. “It means that I’m sterile, Tony. Your mother had an affair, and nine months later you were born. And of this moment I disown you. I will not throw away my money on a bastard.” 

“Mom?” Tony’s face had gone white, and Sophia went to the bar and poured herself a large tumbler of vodka, drinking it down like water. 

“Pack up your things, Tony and go stay with Uncle Clive,” Sophia said evenly. 

~*

The Present~

The Thanksgiving meal was over, and Gibbs’ NCIS team was relaxing in Tony’s living room. The dishes were in the dishwasher, and the leftovers had been put away, ready to be brought out for snacking on later. 

Gibbs was in Tony’s recliner, Tony on a floor pillow leaning against the recliner and making fun of the game. Abby, McGee and Ducky were on the couch, debating the player’s stats cheerfully. 

Ziva looked over at the football game on the large screen TV and rolled her eyes. “Surely there are more traditions to Thanksgiving than watching sports all day?” she asked, interrupting McGee’s analysis of one of the Navy’s players. 

Ducky held up his hands. “Don’t look at me, dear. I was born in Scotland .” 

Abby grinned. “We usually ate ourselves into a coma, then we’d go to church in the evening for Mass. ” 

This made McGee smile. “Our entire family would get together. My Dad has five brothers and sisters, and they all married and had kids and we’d all go to Grandma and Grandpa McGee’s. There were usually at least 25 people, and after we ate we’d go outside and play football. Traditionally, someone would end up in the emergency room.” 

“Now there’s a tradition I’m sure our forefathers didn’t consider,” Gibbs said dryly, provoking laughter. 

Interested now, Ziva leaned forward. “What kind of tradition did your family have, Gibbs?”

Gibbs shrugged. “Pretty much the same as McGee’s. Except my Grandmother was the middle of thirteen children and everyone still lived in town. We all got together at the local church, which invariably one of my cousins would be minister of, and it was the only building big enough to hold the family. My cousins still carry the tradition on.”

“Thirteen children,” Ducky said, sounding good-naturedly aghast. “Good Lord, your great grandmother must have been a saint.”

Ziva smiled. “They say the older children raise the younger children. My mother was the oldest of nine,” she explained at the surprised looks. 

“Wow,” Tony said with an amazed headshake. “I come from an Italian and English family and I’m an only child. Dad’s family came over from Italy in the late 1800’s, so they do the traditional thing, but Grandma Paddington was an English warbride.”

Ducky started to choke on the sip of wine he’d taken, waving off the overly enthusiastic back pounding from Abby. “I’m fine,” he said. He took another sip to clear his throat, his mind whirling with questions. “Where was your mum’s family from?” he asked, in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner. 

Tony grinned. “Cambridge. My dad met her when she was on her Gap year.” 

The right name, Ducky thought dazedly, but the date would’ve meant that she was married…and a devastating question began to form in his mind as he gazed at Tony. He knew Tony’s birthday was in July, which, if he’d been a full term infant meant he’d been conceived in..oh dear…

“Ducky, are you sure you’re okay?” Ducky blinked and saw Abby’s clear eyed and concerned gaze in front of him. 

“Yes, my dear,” he said, patting her shoulder and abruptly getting to his feet. “I’m well enough, though I need to take my leave and check on Mother.”

Gibbs got to his feet as well, his sharp eyes missing nothing. “I’ll drive you home, Duck.” 

“You don’t need to,” Ducky protested, and flapped a hand, realizing that he was acting oddly enough to garner concern from everyone. 

“Yeah, I think I do,” Gibbs said quietly, and Ducky gave in with a sigh. His mental state was disordered enough that maybe he shouldn’t drive, after all. 

**

In the car Gibbs tapped on the steering wheel impatiently as he drove. He kept looking over at the preoccupied Ducky, wondering what in the hell was going through his friend’s head. A bomb could go off, and the older man wouldn’t even notice. 

“Okay, Dr. Mallard. Are you sick?” he finally asked. 

“No, Jethro. I’m not ill and neither is mother, no more than usual anyway. I can’t tell you more, not until I know more myself,” Ducky said testily. 

Gibbs shook his head. “When you can tell me, will you?”

“Yes,” Ducky said simply, because if his suspicions were correct and Tony and Jethro were closer than most people knew, and this would affect them both. Hmm, would that make him Jethro’s father-in-law? He suppressed a snort at his flight of fancy. It would not do to get his hopes up, not until he had more facts. 

 

~*

Tony was fast asleep on the couch when Gibbs got home, one arm curled under his head, which left golden skin showing between his shirt and slacks. Apparently, everyone else had left when he’d taken Ducky home, and Gibbs found he couldn’t be sorry about missing their departures. Not when he could see Tony limp limbed on the leather couch, looking hot enough to eat. 

He slipped off his blazer and bent over, pressing a kiss to Tony’s mouth. He smiled against the younger man’s lips when a hand snaked up around his neck to pull him closer. 

Gibbs pulled back slowly, smiling down at Tony. “Hey, everyone left, huh?”

“Mm,” Tony said. “McGee’s little sister was going to drop in, and Abby had to serve at the shelter and Ziva left to do Ziva-like things.” 

“A concise report, Agent DiNozzo,” Gibbs said solemnly, making Tony snicker. 

“Hey, how’s Ducky?” Tony frowned up at him. 

“I don’t know,” Gibbs said, gently shoving Tony over with his hip so he could sit on the couch. “Something’s going on, but I couldn’t get it out of him.” 

Tony sighed. “I’m gonna try and call my Dad and wish him a Happy Thanksgiving.” 

There was barely concealed pain in Tony’s voice, caused by a father who never seemed to be home to receive any of his son’s calls. A situation which it never failed to make Gibbs burn with anger, but he only nodded. “I’m going to start a fire, all right?” 

Tony leaned up and kissed Gibbs softly. “That would be awesome. And maybe we could watch a movie?”

Gibbs snorted as he helped Tony to his feet. “Yes, we can watch ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’, Tony. I’ll start some popcorn while you’re on the phone.” 

Tony was a fanatic about the movie, swearing that it made the Christmas season better the more times that you watched it. 

He himself wasn’t convinced, but he humored Tony out of love, and for the fact that they never actually saw the end of the movie because at one point or another they would jump each other. So, in that respect Gibbs figured that yeah, sex made the Christmas season a whole lot better. 

~*~

Abby was tapping the counter, frowning thoughtfully at her computer. They actually had a very light case load, but Ducky had asked her to stay after work. And as she would do anything for the Duckman, she was finishing up paperwork to fill the time. 

The elevator doors opened and Ducky came out. Abby frowned at the stress she could see in the older man’s face. “Hey Ducky, what’s up?”

Ducky placed two blood samples onto her countertop. “I need you to compare these two biological samples, my dear. This is the main sample.” He pointed to the one he’d marked. “Off the clock and discreetly,” he added seriously. 

“Of course,” Abby nodded, her pigtails bouncing. “Can I ask why?”

“Not yet,” he answered evasively. “Just call me when you have the results. I’ll be downstairs.” 

“Ducky,” Abby began hesitantly to his back. When he stopped, she continued, “It’s quicker if I just need to do a paternity test.” 

“That would be fine, Abigail,” Ducky said softly, and pressed the button for the elevator. 

~*~

Abby printed out her results, and squeaked when a heavy hand fell on her shoulder. 

“Abs, what are you doing here?” Gibbs asked her.

“I’m having a heart-attack, Bossman!” she scolded, heart beating a mile a minute. “I wish you wouldn’t do that!” 

Gibbs just tilted his head and Abby made a face. “I’m doing something for Ducky, okay?”

The elevator door opened and Ducky made a dismayed noise when he saw Gibbs. “Jethro, I thought you went home.” 

Immediately suspicious, Gibbs deliberately sat down in Abby’s chair. “I came back.”

“Ducky, here’s your results,” Abby said, trying to diffuse the sudden tension. 

Ducky took the papers, closed his eyes, then looked down. “Oh,” he said and swayed on his feet, making Gibbs spring to his and hustle him to the chair. 

“Are you okay?” Abby asked anxiously. 

When Ducky didn’t answer Abby sent Gibbs a panicked look that said ‘Do something!’ which made Gibbs roll his eyes. “Ducky?” he asked gently. 

Ducky blinked, then handed the printout to Gibbs. “Jethro, I have reason to believe that I am Anthony’s father.” 

There was a stunned silence in Abby’s lab, both Abby and Gibbs reduced to staring. 

“What?” Gibbs finally blurted incredulously. “How?”

Ducky took in the gaping mouths and wide eyes and his sense of humor kicked in over the shock. “Well, Jethro. I would’ve thought you knew, but since you’ve asked. A man and a woman…” he began. 

“Ducky!” Gibbs and Abby chorused with exasperation. 

He took a minute to take back the papers and smooth the proof of what he’d only begun to hope for. “It was the holiday season in London . I’d just retired from, well, never mind where, the point is I was at loose ends and a friend invited me to his manor for a formal gathering.” Ducky smiled as he remembered his first sight of Sophia Paddington. “She was beautiful, dark hair and eyes that glowed in the candlelight.”

“Tony’s mom?” Abby squeaked. 

Ducky smirked. “Yes, dear. Tony’s mother, though I didn’t have any idea that she was married. We left the party, and I showed her the sights of London.” 

“And more, apparently,” Gibbs said with his own smirk. 

“Wow,” Abby said excitedly. “What are the odds that you and Tony would work together. What are the odds that the two of you would ever meet? Or that you would ever figure out that you had a son! I mean-”

“Abby,” Ducky held up a hand to stop her babbling. “I don’t know what I’m going to do as of yet.” 

Abby looked dismayed, but Gibbs stepped in. “Ducky, you have to tell him. Hell, you have to tell your mother that she has a grandson.” 

That made Ducky blink. 

~*~

Ducky gingerly knelt on one knee, running a finger over the ornate carving on the large, ostentatious memorial. It read- 

Sophia Paddington DiNozzo, Beloved Wife, Mother, Daughter, 1947-1989. 

His memory supplied him with the beautiful laughing young woman he’d met so long ago in London . She’d been filled with life, though there had been a shadow lurking in her eyes even then. 

From the snippets of his life that Tony had dropped, Sophia had not had a happy marriage to Anthony DiNozzo Sr., which partially explained why she’d become an alcoholic. 

“Oh, Sophia, my dear,” Ducky said softly. “Tony is a wonderful young man. Intelligent, compassionate and with a generous nature. I am proud of him, and gladly claim him as my son.” He kissed his fingers and touched her name, placed the bouquet of roses on the ground and got heavily to his feet. 

 

~*

Ducky leaned over to pet Tyson, one of his other’s Corgis. “Hello, boy,” he said. “Did Mother behave today?” He stood and placed his hat in the closet. 

Vanessa Mallard snorted inelegantly. “If behaving means that I had no fun, then yes.”

“Tried to make a break for it, did we?” he asked his mother. 

She gave him a mischievous look. “I may have. But it doesn’t matter. How was your day? You’re home very late, you know.”

Ducky nodded as he sat tiredly in his chair. “I know. I had an errand in New York .” 

Sitting down to eye her son, Vanessa could see signs of stress, and not the normal work related kind. She didn’t think it was her, she knew that her memory was failing more and more, but today had been a good day. “Donald, what is going on?”

Surprised, Ducky looked up at his mother and saw she was looking at him, her eyes clear and aware. “I’m fine mother. I’ve had a bit of a shock and I’ve been wondering what to do next.” Contessa jumped into his lap and he petted her absently, not even complaining that she was shedding all over his dark plants. “Can I ask your opinion?” he said suddenly. 

“You know me, dear,” she replied. “I have opinions on everything.” 

Ducky chuckled. “Indeed.” He sat for a moment to gather his thoughts. “I’ve discovered something about one of my co-workers. Something that will change his life.”

“Is it bad?” 

“N-o,” he said slowly. “But it will change everything he knows about himself.” 

“He should know,” Vanessa said promptly. “If it is that important then he should be told. It’s like those horrible American soap operas, the truth will always out at the most inconvenient time.” 

Ducky nodded. “I’m inclined to agree with you,” he said. “Mother, I have an early Christmas present for you.” 

Surprised, Vanessa glanced around. “I haven’t seen any packages around.”

“He’s a bit bigger than a breadbox,” Ducky said dryly. At her puzzled look, Ducky smiled. “Mother, I’ve discovered that I have a grown son.” 

Vanessa blinked, then slowly smiled. “I say it’s about time that you gave me a grandchild, Donald.” 

And Ducky had to laugh.

~*

Ducky had deliberately waited until the end of the work day to do this. He stepped out of the elevator and his breath caught as he saw his son, ~knowing~ that the young man was his son, for the first time. 

Tony was futzing with his computer, making a face at whatever he’d been typing. It made Ducky smile, he remembered his own father making a similar face as he wrote. He could see more and more similarities between Tony and himself, now that he was looking for them. 

He checked around, making sure that Ziva and Timothy McGee had already left, catching Gibbs eye and nodding. 

“Tony,” he said, and the younger man looked up and smiled.

“Hey Ducky, what can I do for you?”

Ducky cleared his throat. “I was wondering if I could invite myself over this evening?” 

Surprised, Tony leaned back in his chair. “Sure. I’m making spaghetti marinara, if that’s okay?”

“Oh,” Ducky said in surprise. “I didn’t mean for dinner.”

Tony waved a hand. “I’m already making dinner for Gibbs, you may as well eat with us.” 

Ducky nodded. “Very well, I accept. I’ll see you then.”

~*

Tony watched bemusedly as Gibbs paced towards the wall. He stirred the pasta and watched as Gibbs turned and went the opposite direction. “So, you’re ~sure~ Ducky’s not sick,” he said. 

“Ducky’s fine,” Gibbs said shortly. 

“Uh huh, and there’s nothing going on at work?”

“No, DiNozzo!” 

Tony made a face at the sharp tone but didn’t take it personally. There was something going on, both Abby and Gibbs had been acting squirrelly at work, and he guessed they’d just have to wait for Ducky. He opened the pot on the back of the stove and stirred the marinara, lifting up the spoon to taste before he turned down the heat. He kept glancing at Gibbs who was finally still, standing at the window and staring out. 

“Can you set the table?” Tony asked, more to give Gibbs something to do than anything else. 

“Ducky’s here,” Gibbs said instead and headed towards the door. 

“Showtime,” Tony murmured as he put the spaghetti in the drainer and pulled the bread from the oven, placing it on a cooling rack on the island. 

 

Ducky raised his eyebrows as the door whipped open. “Hello, Jethro.”

“Hey, Ducky, come on in,” Gibbs said with barely disguised relief. 

Tony looked up and smiled when he saw the older man. “Hey Ducky, come on in and take a load off.”

“Thank you.” Ducky smiled back, letting Jethro take his coat and hat. “I brought some wine.”

“Thanks, you didn’t need to,” Tony said, taking the wine from Ducky and whistling when he saw the excellent vintage. 

Tony plopped the spaghetti into a large bowl, then gently stirred the marinara in. He handed a plate to Gibbs with a raised eyebrow towards the bread. 

The three men sat at the table, Tony serving up the spaghetti marinara, and the salad, then passing the bread around. “So, can someone tell me what in the hell is going on?”

Gibbs coughed, and Ducky smirked at him. It struck him as hilarious that he was the calm one and Jethro was nervous as a cat on a tin roof. “Tony, I knew your mother when she was younger,” he said calmly. 

Tony lowered his forkful of spaghetti, eyes wide. “You knew my mom? When?”

Ducky wiped his mouth with his napkin and took a sip of wine. “It was almost thirty-five years ago. She was at a party I was attending in London .” He let his eyes meet Tony’s, because ~now~ he was nervous. He didn’t know how much Tony knew, or suspected about his birth.

Gibbs was watching Tony closely, and saw something pass behind those hazel eyes. “Tony?”

“You…” Tony said, then shook his head. “Okay, wait a second. You knew my mother before I was born, right?” 

“Yes,” Ducky said. 

Tony nodded and tapped his fingers on the table. One could virtually see him put all of the pieces together. His quick mind that could take random information and assemble it to further a case, was making all of the correct connections. 

“When I told my father that I was going to police academy,” Tony began, his eyes darkening, “He told me that I was going to end up in the gutter, and it was a good thing that I wasn’t his son…”

“Oh Tony, I am so sorry,” Ducky said, reaching over to place his hand on Tony’s. 

Tony looked up. “How long have you known?”

Ducky squeezed Tony’s hand. “I suspected when you told me your mother’s name at Thanksgiving. It took me a bit to wrap my mind around it, but when the results came in I will assure you that I was happy, Anthony. Surprised, yes…” he said with a laugh at Tony’s eyeroll. “But happy and proud of the wonderful man that you’ve become. I couldn’t ask for a better son if I’d ordered one.” 

“Wow,” Tony said, a little dazed as he tried to see the similarities between himself and a man he’d considered a friend. “What are the odds?” 

Gibbs snorted. “Exactly what Abby said.” 

“~That’s~ why Abby was acting so weird!” Tony exclaimed. “Well, weirder than normal,” he amended. 

“Do you mind?” Ducky asked hesitantly.

Tony turned his hand over and squeezed Ducky’s back, even as his eyes sheened with emotion. “Why would I mind? My Dad is a super intelligent, kind man who…” and he blinked. “I’ve got a Grandmother!” 

“Yes, you do indeed,” Ducky said with a hearty laugh. 

“Hah, she has an Italian gigolo for a grandson!” Tony crowed with a grin, which made Gibbs and Ducky laugh. 

~*

Much later Tony was sitting in front of his fireplace with Gibbs behind him, staring into the dancing flames as he tried to come to terms with the huge 180 degree turn his life has just taken. 

Ducky was his dad.

Tony Mallard. Anthony D. Mallard. 

He snorted, because it sounded ridiculous. Then suddenly his name made all of the sense in the world, and all of his childhood questions to his Mom about why his middle name was Donal made a twisted sort of sense. Anthony Donal. Donald…Donal. Man, his Mom had been sneaky. 

“Hey, how are you doing?” Gibbs asked gently, rubbing Tony’s shoulder. 

Tony turned his head to smile at his Boss, and more importantly, his lover. “Just trying to take it in.” 

“Are you going to call him Dad?” Gibbs asked him.

Was he? Tony shrugged. “I think we’ll play it by ear. Right now I’m trying to deal with the fact that someone wants ~me~ to be his son. That Ducky is ~proud~ of me.” 

“I’m proud of you!” Gibbs pointed out gruffly. 

Tony leaned back and let out a satisfied sigh as Gibbs’ arms snaked around him, holding him tightly to his chest. “Love is blind,” he said, and snickered when Gibbs bit his ear. 

~*

The month of December was so busy with bodies, politics and terrorism that Tony hadn’t been able to work his head around his new reality, when suddenly time was up. It all came to a screeching halt as he stared at the bomb that had been strapped to his chest.

The terrorist cell that the NCIS team has been chasing obviously had someone on the inside because Tony had been kidnapped from the NCIS parking garage, trussed up like a Christmas goose, to use a Scottish metaphor since he was apparently half Scot anyway, and placed in a colder than a witch’s tit, empty warehouse. 

He was bait. Tony knew it, even as he’d been trying to get his hands free. The bomb kept ticking down and just when he’d been about to give up there was the blessed sound of gunfire and sirens outside, and a frantic “Tony!” 

The doors slid open with a crash and he shook his head frantically as Gibbs, Ducky and McGee ran in. The bomb had less that three minutes left, and Tony didn’t want any of them to die, even as he wondered where the hell Ziva was. She was the frickin’ bomb expert. 

As Gibbs quickly ripped the tape off his mouth, McGee was frantically sawing at the tape that bound the bomb while Ducky helped to keep the bomb still. 

“Timothy, stop,” Ducky ordered. 

“What? Why?” McGee asked in confusion. 

Ducky’s eyes met Gibbs’ concerned ones. “It’s pressure sensitive. Let me have your knife.” 

“Ducky,” Gibbs began, but Ducky had already knelt down and was carefully but quickly inspecting the bomb. “I used to do this sort of thing routinely, Jethro. Just be quiet and let me think.” 

“I want you guys to leave me,” Tony said calmly. 

Gibbs jerked his head towards the door. “McGee, go.” 

“No,” Tim said stubbornly. 

Tony rolled his eyes. “I trust my Dad to do this,” he said impatiently. “But just in case…”

Ducky didn’t glance up, though his fingers had stilled for a split second. “Ah, here we are,” he said and used McGee’s knife to slice through the appropriate wires and the digital countdown went dark with moments to spare.

“Ohgod,” Tony said and closed his eyes. “I need a bathroom.” 

Gibbs chuckled as he sliced off the rest of the tape, and he and Ducky helped Tony to his wobbly feet, then Ducky wrapped Tony in a bear hug. 

“I forbid you to do that again,” Ducky said, his voice muffled in Tony’s shoulder. 

Tony placed his cheek against Ducky’s head, patting the older man’s back. “Can’t make any promises, Dad. You know that.” 

“Dad?” McGee mouthed incredulously, but Gibbs herded him out of the warehouse to give father and son a moment alone. 

Ducky stepped back and blew out a sigh. “I know. I just let my emotions overwhelm me for a moment, dear boy.” 

Wrapping an arm around Ducky’s shoulder as they headed towards the doors, Tony asked, “So, how do you know so much about bombs?” 

“Son,” Ducky said with a smile. “If I told you then I’d have to kill you, and that would be such a shame.”

“Huh, my Dad the spy,” Tony said with remarkable intuition.

“Mm. So, how close are you and Jethro?” Ducky asked just before they reached the doors. 

Tony stopped and stared at Ducky. And smiled. “You old dog, you knew!”

Ducky shook his head and smiled. “Suspected. And I approve.” 

“Good,” Tony said as they moved into the sunshine. “ ‘Cause I wasn’t going to give him up.” 

~*

 

Director Vance’s assistant was flipping through the paperwork on her desk, when something caught her eye. She lifted it up, her eyebrows rising as she scanned it, and she started at the beginning and read it through carefully. She stood and went to the Director’s door, knocking quickly before opening it. 

“What is it?” the Director scowled. 

“I think you’ll want to see this, Director,” the woman said, not intimidated. 

Vance took the papers and read through them, and said, “Whoa. Whoa! DiNozzo is Dr. Mallard’s ~son~?”

“That’s what it says. Dr. Mallard is changing his benefits forms to include Agent DiNozzo, so indicated as his heir.” 

“Huh,” Vance said, sticking a toothpick into his mouth as he rolled it over in his mind. This was a blockbuster of a secret and he knew that it would be all over the building before lunchtime. What he should have realized was that Ducky that had planned it that way. 

*

Tony was sitting at his desk, busily typing when he heard the sound of a female throat being cleared, making him glance up. “Hey Sheila, what’s up?” he asked before going back to his report. 

Sheila from Accounting was a little taken aback. It used to be that Tony would stop whatever he was doing just to flirt with her. “I heard something and I wanted to know if it was just a rumor.” 

A quick smile was sent her way. “Yep, I’m Ducky’s son. Nope, we didn’t know until recently. Yep, we’re actually pretty happy about it. And nope, it’s nobody’s business.” 

“Oh,” she said and flounced off. 

McGee snickered from his desk. “How many is that now, Tony?”

Tony smirked. “Half of the secretarial pool, and three from accounting.” 

“I’m surprised that Fornell hasn’t been over to ask in person,” Gibbs mock grumbled. 

“I’m just glad that no one’s said anything about us working together,” Tony said while he stretched, groaning as his back cracked loudly. 

“Geez, Tony. Sounds like you need a chiropractor,” McGee said, good naturedly aghast. 

“Nah, just need to sleep on a better mattress,” he said with a grin, ignoring Gibbs’ eyeroll at the jab at his mattress. 

Ziva, still healing from a bullet wound she’d received from the same day that Tony had been kidnapped, glanced up from her computer. “I was going to ask you, Tony. Are you going to change your name?”

Tony pursed his lips. He’d been going over it in his head for awhile. “I’ve been thinking about it and I’ve been Tony DiNozzo for so long that I don’t think I’d answer to anything else. But, I think I have an idea.” 

“What?” she asked. 

“I need to think on it,” Tony said mysteriously. 

“Good luck with that,” Ziva said dryly, making McGee choke on his coffee. 

*

Gibbs and Ducky had kept their ears out for rumors of favoritism, or sour grapes but to both men’s pleasant surprise there had been neither. All that they’d heard is how weird it was and ‘what were the odds?’, which made Abby giggle when she heard. 

~*

Tony stood on the porch of the huge Victorian house, fidgeting nervously. He’d brought Ducky and his Grandmother presents, which he knew he was placing way too much importance on, but he wanted these first gifts to his family, his ~real~ family to matter. 

“Relax,” Gibbs ordered. 

“Easy for you to say,” Tony quipped as he pushed the doorbell. The cacophony of barking dogs made him wince. He wasn’t really fond of the little fuzzballs, well, except for maybe Tyson. 

The door opened and Ducky’s mother stood and looked at them suspiciously, the dogs crowding around her feet. “Are you here to make deliveries?”

Tony exchanged a look with Gibbs. Ducky had warned them that Tony’s grandmother may or may not be having a good day. Looked like luck wasn’t on their side. “No, Mrs. Mallard. Ducky invited us over for Christmas Eve dinner.” 

Her eyes cleared slightly and she smiled. “Oh, it’s you. Well, don’t stand out here letting the flies in.” 

They smiled and stepped in, Tony bending down to give the dogs some attention. When he stood up, Ducky’s mother was eyeing him sharply, like there was something she’d remembered. 

“Oh good, you’re both here,” Ducky said as he bustled in, an apron still around his waist. He hugged Tony and then shook Gibbs’ hand. 

“Mother, do you remember Jethro Gibbs and Tony DiNozzo? I work with them,” Ducky said. 

“Of course I remember them,” she replied indignantly. “They saved your life.” 

Ducky blinked, then smiled. “Absolutely right, Mother.” He turned to Gibbs and Tony. “Let’s go into the parlor and have some eggnog, shall we?”

Tony could see that Ducky was nervous too, and that made him relax slightly as he followed everyone into the parlor, then he just stopped and stared. It was decorated to the teeth, fresh greenery draped over the door lintels, over each window, and across the mantel was perfuming the air. Poinsettias and large lilies were placed here and there for bold punches of color. And the tree. It was enormous, decorated with large tartan bows, colored balls and obviously antique ornaments. It was like out of a movie set, but not pretentious in the way the DiNozzo’s were. To Tony, it said ‘Home’.

Ducky was watching him nervously, and Tony smiled widely. “Wow!” he said, honestly impressed. “It’s like the tree from ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’, if it was in color, of course.” 

“Oh, I adore that movie,” Mrs. Mallard said. 

“You’ve only watched it about a dozen times, Mother,” Ducky said fondly. 

She waved the teasing away. “Not enough, if you ask me.” 

“Huh,” Gibbs said with a grin. “I think Tony has watched it at least that many times.” 

Tony hated feeling emotional, but little stuff like this caught him in the heart. “Oh, um, I’ve got Christmas presents, where do I put them?” He awkwardly held out the two packages.

“Tony,” Ducky scolded. “You didn’t have to bring anything but yourself, dear boy.” He took the packages, shook the one with his name on it boyishly, which made Tony laugh, and placed them under the tree. 

Gibbs gently pushed one of the corgi’s to the floor and pulled Tony down beside him on the Victorian settee. “How are you doing?” he asked quietly as Ducky bustled around, pouring eggnog and starting some quiet Christmas music. 

“Good, I’m good,” Tony said honestly. He took the eggnog from Ducky, and sipped, relieved that it wasn’t heavily alcoholic. 

~

Ducky sat down, then noticed he still had his apron on, popped back up and quickly removed it, taking it to the kitchen before coming back out and sitting in his favorite chair. 

“So,” he said, to no one in particular. “I suppose you’re wondering why I called you all here?”

There was laughter and a snort from his mother, making Ducky grin. “Well, anyway. Mother, I don’t know if you remember our conversation but I told you that I have your Christmas present.” 

Ducky’s mother cocked her head. “I can see the presents under the tree, Donald.” 

“It’s more of a person,” Ducky began, when his mother sat up straight, making the dog on her lap yip in surprise. 

“He’s bigger than a breadbox, that’s what you said,” she said, her memory clearing. 

“That he is,” Ducky said with a soft smile. “Mother, I want to introduce you to Anthony. He’s my son, and your grandson.” 

Tony stood, brushing the wrinkles out of his pressed dark blue slacks nervously, then he went over to smile down at his Grandmother. “Um, hi, and surprise?”

Vanessa Mallard stood and looked into Tony’s eyes, then eyeing him up and down. “He reminds me of your Uncle Hugh, don’t you agree?”

Ducky nodded. “Indeed he does. I even see father in him, at times.” 

“Are you sure he’s not trying to bilk you out of your money?” she asked sharply. 

Tony rolled his eyes. “I’m the Italian gigolo, remember? I have my own money.” 

Mrs. Mallard cackled, and pulled him down for a resounding kiss on his cheek. “You’ll do, you’ll do.” She looked at her son. “Anymore hidden grandchildren?”

“I don’t think so, Mother,” Ducky huffed. 

Tony went over to the tree and picked up the packages he’d brought, handing one to Ducky, “Here ya go, Pop,” he said with a grin, and the handed one to his Grandmother, “Grandmere”, he said with a courtly bow. 

Mrs. Mallard opened her gift and pulled out a lovely aqua-marine cardigan sweater that made her smile. “Oh, this is the color of Donald’s eyes. It’s lovely,” she said, immediately putting it on over her dress. 

Gibbs smiled at Tony. “Okay, you were right,” he said, referring to Tony insisting that he knew how to shop for a woman of any age. 

“I know,” Tony with a smirk. He watched Ducky open the box and pull out the envelope with surprise. He held his breath as his father opened it, hoping this gift would make him happy. 

 

Ducky recognized that the large envelope held legal papers, but the papers themselves made him stop and stare. 

‘Original Petition for Name Change’ was at the top of the document, and his gaze dropped to the petitioner’s name ‘Anthony Donal DiNozzo’, and then further down to the proposed name change, ‘Anthony Donal Mallard DiNozzo’. 

“I…I don’t know what to say,” Ducky whispered, blue eyes bright as they sought out his son. 

“Well,” Tony said sheepishly. “I didn’t think I would remember Mallard after all of these years of being DiNozzo, so I thought it was the next best thing.”

“It’s wonderful,” Ducky replied sincerely. 

“Congratulations, Ducky,” Gibbs said, tongue in cheek. “It’s a boy!” 

 

*~*


End file.
